Felt and Copper

I walked beyond the square and entered the brick market arcade, where an upright piano rested against a pillar with its lower casing removed, exposing its interior mechanisms. Approaching the bass register, I positioned my metallic index finger upon a worn ebony key. Exerting a single, calibrated downward stroke, I watched the wooden jack pivot cleanly, propelling the felt hammer in a sharp arc against the heavy copper-wound string. A deep, resonant tone echoed along the vaulting. I maintained steady pressure on the key, letting the sustained acoustic vibration hum through my arm linkages and harmonize with the clockwork in my chest until the wave dispersed.